


pas de deux dans l'éclipse

by Jedi Buttercup (jedibuttercup)



Category: Pitch Black (2000), The Chronicles of Riddick Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000, Yuletide 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:27:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21938959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jedibuttercup/pseuds/Jedi%20Buttercup
Summary: Sure Johns wanted to take Riddick in for the bounty.  But he wanted the win a hell of a lot more.  Maybe that was a weakness.  But their dance wasn't over yet.
Comments: 10
Kudos: 47
Collections: Yuletide 2019





	pas de deux dans l'éclipse

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hecate](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hecate/gifts).



"Bad sign," a low voice rumbled in Johns' ear, "going that pale in this heat."

Johns looked over from where he'd braced himself against the outer skin of the escape skiff, glaring at the convict casually shaving his head in the shade cast by the ship. Of _course_ Riddick was the one to catch him giving into a moment of weakness; probably had been waiting to see how long he'd spend in there talking to the pilot. Especially since it was _his_ fault Johns was in this much pain to begin with.

Well, for the most part. It had been _his_ dumb-fuck idea to further disguise his clandestine med stash by declaring the disguised morphine capsules as actual shotgun shells and let the _Hunter Gratzner_ 's crew lock them down in the weapons locker at the back of the main cabin. Which, of course, had been torn away along with all three of the transport ship's cargo containers, thirty-one of its paying passengers, and the med locker when they'd crashed on this hellhole. And he hadn't even had his last dose still coursing through his bloodstream to cushion their harsh awakening; the weeks in cryo had been more than long enough to strip his system clean again. Leaving him with only an almighty craving and a spasming spinal cord to work with.

It had been a long-ass day. And it looked like it was only getting longer.

"I thought I said no shivs," he growled in reply, straightening up as best he could.

"This?" Riddick chuckled, gesturing with the grease-coated blade. "It's just a personal grooming appliance. Not an invitation for a matching scar."

No telling where he'd hid the thing; Johns had patted him down before locking him up for transport, but Riddick had been in and out of slams for years. Any tricks he hadn't known going in, he'd undoubtedly learned before breaking out again. Johns had had a damn thorough education of his own, between his early experiences on his father's bounty crew and his time in uniform during the Wailing Wars, but Riddick had made him work for it more than any other prey he'd ever hunted.

"Yeah, well, you'll forgive me if I don't take your word for it. Damn near crippled me last time. Not looking forward to what tricks you'll pull this time."

Riddick tipped his head to the side, brows drawing together over those dark goggles. "That why we're still shy a few power cells? Telling cautionary tales to our pilot?"

Johns' back twinged again, and he grunted, pressing his knuckles against aching nerves. Cheap fucking slam doctors; the price they'd wanted to charge for nano-bot surgery had been many times the Guild rate, almost as much again as Riddick's bounty. He'd opted for the cheaper version, old-fashioned knives and drugs, and that decision had been fucking him up ever since. Of course he'd been hedging his bets with Fry; Johns was barely keeping up with Riddick as it was, if he got any of the other survivors on his side there'd be no containing him.

"Wings aren't even fully repaired yet; what's the rush? You going to tell her cautionary tales about the coming eclipse instead?"

"Or maybe I ought to tell her the _real_ story behind that nickel-slick badge of yours," Riddick scoffed. He scraped the grease off the side of the shiv as he spoke, then lifted it back to his scalp, shaving with the blind effortlessness of a man who'd done it a hundred times before.

Johns didn't know which he hated the man for more: the easy way Riddick moved in his own skin, the blunt power and graceful, calculated efficiency that had made Johns feel like an awkward rookie even before the dustup at Butcher Bay, or the half-amused, half-sneering condescension that festered under every damn thing he said. As though _he_ were the one with the upper hand, not Johns. Maybe it was the chip on his shoulder talking – shift the accent a little, and half what Riddick said wouldn't be out of place in his father's mouth, or vice versa – but he'd been willing to do increasingly risky things to see Riddick humbled at his hands since the first moment he'd actually encountered the man in person.

Sure he wanted to take him in for the bounty. It was a fuckload of credits. But he wanted the win a hell of a lot more. Maybe that _was_ a weakness. But their dance wasn't over yet.

"Think she'd really give a shit?" he replied, affecting disinterest.

Riddick, of course, saw through that as quickly as he had everything else, chuckling as he bared the next section of scalp. "Nah. Not now that you're off the morphine, anyway. Took all the fun out of it, that last chase. No point trying to match wits with a guy feeling no pain."

"Yeah, well. I still caught you, didn't I?" he replied, stung.

"Some asshole sure did. I don't know, Johns. Am I still looking at that asshole?"

Their gazes met for a long, burning moment before Johns had to look away. What the fuck right did _Riddick_ have to judge him anyway? But he couldn't quite kick the sound of his own voice mocking Riddick in his chase logs, either: _woulda never guessed he had such a soft spot_.

"You just remember you're still worth half as much dead as you are alive, and I ain't killed you yet," he snarled back as he turned to stalk away, adrenaline finally loosening the knot in his spine.

"Yeah, well, I ain't killed you yet, either," Riddick called after him. "You just remember _that_."

+

Several hours later, in the haunted, echoing darkness of the eclipse, Johns _did_ remember that moment – in its entirety. He thought about their odds of making it to the escape skiff through the narrow canyon ahead; the fact that even Riddick had paused rather than head straight through; the siren call of the girl's blood drawing the monsters to them; and the inevitable equation that resulted. But also, the scathing contempt in Riddick's tone. The faces of those children in the Conga System. And the inevitable knowledge that if he tried to suggest sacrificing _this_ kid, he may as well cut his own throat so Riddick could drag _him_ for the bioraptors.

Almost worse was the certain knowledge that if he trusted Riddick to save them _now_ , there'd be no fucking putting him under again once they left the system. Johns might actually have to follow through on reporting him dead and letting him go free. Letting _him_ be the hero of the story – to a holy man, his charge, a stowaway kid, and a guilt-ridden pilot.

Redemption. Fuck. And why did that thought still grind his gears?

His back spasmed again, and he took a sharp breath, making sure there was enough gap between them and the others for a quiet word with Riddick. "You know we're not all gonna make it through this."

"Just figuring that out, huh," Riddick replied in very dry tones.

"Ain't got no choice but to try it anyway," he continued, gritting his teeth. "So how about we keep that load off your shoulders, and I give you my weapon. Five of us pulling instead, we ought to be able to pick up the speed. Your hands free versus those things, I think might just increase our odds."

_That_ got Riddick's attention; he turned his face fully towards Johns, only half-lit by their little bubble of transient incandescence. "You'd trust me not to leave you all out here to die."

Johns clenched a fist at his side, fingernails digging into his palm. "I think there's only bad odds and worse odds here, and it's monsters all the way down. So here's a chance to prove _me_ wrong about _you_ for once. What's it gonna be, Riddick?"

The other man paused, as if savoring the moment, those silver eyes shining in the reflected light of the flare Johns held. Then he took a long step closer, right up into Johns' personal space.

Johns took a deep breath, but refused to budge, pulse thundering as he waited for the convict to make a move. But when he did – he just leaned in close, inhaling deeply as if scenting him.

"All right, Johns," he finally said, pulling back with a self-satisfied expression. "You got yourself a deal."

Johns clenched his jaw, then passed over the shotgun that – unlike the fake shells – had made it through the crash, concealed, in his personal cargo. "Don't make me regret it."

"Can't promise that. But I can promise that whatever happens – it'll at least be _interesting_ ," Riddick replied.

+

Several hours after _that_ , as he and Riddick patched each other up in the back of the escape skiff, Johns thought of those words again and smiled wryly.

Just his luck, he'd got that matching scar after all. But at least Riddick had been right about one thing: the journey hadn't been boring.

"A lot of questions, whoever we run into. Could even be a merc ship," the girl said, watching them with troubled eyes. 

"Probably, this far off the main travel lanes. Legit ships are pretty few and far between out here, and they never carry anything valuable," Johns replied through gritted teeth. "One reason I took this route. Figured no one would look at us twice."

"So what the hell do we tell them about you guys?" she asked, biting her lower lip. Fry and the Imam had agreed to let them tell whatever story they chose – but they'd have to pick one first.

Riddick raised an eyebrow at Johns, then taped the last bandage into place and looked up. "Tell them Riddick's dead. He died somewhere on that planet."

"Tell them we're hunters ourselves. Lost our bounty on that rock. All the story they should need," he added.

"Bounty hunter now, huh?" Riddick commented, mildly.

Johns grinned sharply at him. "Don't they say, if you can't beat them, join them? And you ain't quite beat me just yet."

"One of these days, Johns," Riddick rumbled in reply, mouth curved like a promise.

Almost made him eager to see what would happen from here. What the hell, his life as William J. Johns, lone bounty hunter, had been a steaming pile of meaningless shit for a while now. Time to try something else even more exciting for awhile. 

Johns chuckled back. "Yeah, one of these days."


End file.
